Heaven's Net Is Wide by Lian Hearn (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

it? Maybe I also will gain a reputation for compassion and share in Shigeru’s popularity.”

“Lord Masahiro is indeed compassionate,” she replied. “I will make sure it is widely known.”

She felt Hayato’s hand on the nape of her neck, a slight pressure, almost a caress. Then he was gone.

Farewell, she said in her heart. Be at peace now. She prayed he would find peace, and an auspicious rebirth, and would not come back to haunt her.

After Masahiro’s departure, Akane tried to tell herself she was not displeased with the outcome of the encounter. Haruna would be overjoyed and would almost certainly shower her with gifts; she had fulfilled her obligations to the dead, and she was sure that the agreement would not force her to betray Shigeru. She did not have any great opinion of Masahiro, and she felt quite confident of her ability to give him snippets of unimportant information. But as the days passed and she had time to reflect, she became less and less happy about what she had done, almost as if she knew unconsciously that she had taken the first step on a path that would deliver her into the power of a corrupt and cruel man.

Her greatest concern was that reports of Hayato’s death and her intercession on the family’s behalf would reach Shigeru in some distorted form and anger him. His absence and Masahiro’s visit had combined to produce a sense of insecurity in her. Her role as the mistress to the heir to the clan gave her great pleasure; she could not bear the thought of losing it. And apart from that ignominy, she suffered from an unfamiliar anxiety-that Shigeru would think less of her, that she would disappoint him, that he would turn away from her.

He will only love a woman who wins his respect, she realized clearly. He will not overlook or forgive any failing of character, any disloyalty. The idea that Masahiro might somehow inform him of their agreement unsettled her. Nothing could calm her unease. She wrote several letters and burned them, finding their tone falsely innocent, thinking her suggestions and suppressions, her embroidery of the truth, were blatant and would be easily discerned by him.

Her house, its exquisite objects, the garden, the pine trees, the sea, had all lost their power to charm her. Her appetite waned; she began to sleep badly and was short-tempered with the maids. The sight of the moon on the water, the dew on the first buds of the chrysanthemums and on the webs of the gold-orb spiders, moved her first to tears and then to despair. She longed for Shigeru to return from the East, yet dreaded his arrival; longed for winter, which would keep him in Hagi; dreaded what his uncle might tell him through spite or intrigue and what she in turn would have to report to Masahiro.

21

The first typhoon of late summer swept up the coast from the southwest, but though it brought heavy rain, its main force had abated by the time it reached Hagi; the eastern parts of the Middle Country were hardly touched, and Shigeru did not hasten his return home. It was true that he missed Akane from time to time, but he had no desire to go back to the intrigue in the castle or to the uncomfortable situation with his wife. The life of a warrior on the borders had a simplicity about it that was straightforward and refreshing. He was treated by everyone with undivided respect and gratitude, which he found flattering and which gave him ever-increasing confidence in himself and in his role as the leader of the clan. No one argued with him; everyone deferred to his opinions.

It was almost as if they were still boys, playing at stone fights, but with real soldiers and real lives at their command now. They kept a constant watch on the entire border from coast to coast, sleeping outside for nights on end beneath the soft summer sky with its huge blurred stars. Every couple of weeks or so they returned to Chigawa, where they took advantage of the hot springs and the plentiful food of late summer.

On one of these occasions, late in the eighth month, on an early evening just before sunset, Takeshi and Kahei came into the lodging house, hair still wet from the bath, laughing loudly. They also had become more relaxed during the last few weeks, released from the stern discipline of study and training that had filled their lives in Hagi. Both were on the cusp of manhood, their bodies filling out, limbs lengthening, voices breaking. In a year or two, Shigeru thought, listening to them now, they should be sent to Terayama to learn as he had done the self-discipline that would bind together all they had been taught so far. He had watched his brother closely in the past weeks, trying to check Takeshi’s recklessness and impetuosity, noting how the men adored and encouraged him, admiring his fearlessness. In Shigeru’s opinion, Kahei had a more dependable character: his courage was not tinged with rashness; he was willing to seek advice and follow it. Yet Takeshi shone with something additional-the inborn Otori ability to inspire devotion. Shigeru wondered again how best to give his brother the responsibilities he needed. Takeshi showed no interest in crops and agriculture, the running of estates, or the development of industry; his passion was all for the art of war. If his rashness could be tempered, he might make a great general; at the moment, he was more interested in individual heroic exploits than in the careful planning of strategy and tactics. He was even less interested in the diplomatic negotiations that ensured peace. He and Kiyoshige frequently deplored the absence of war and longed for the opportunity to teach the Tohan a lesson like the battle at the shrine, which Kiyoshige described in bloodthirsty detail on more than one occasion.

Kiyoshige liked Takeshi, and their shared adventures while Shigeru